In Time
by TwilightFan4Life
Summary: Edward Cullen, troubled and on the verge of failing his senior year of high school find's himself in quite a bind. With everything leaning on his senior project in English, will he be able to work with is partner? Will she find out his secret, and him her
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

**In Time**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Edward, or any other of the characters for that matter. They are the brilliant creation of Stephenie Meyer. I'm only borrowing them for a while. With that said, enjoy!**

**Chapter One  
****My Oh, So Amazing Life**

_**EPOV **_ (The Majority of this piece will be done in Edward's point of view. There could possible be some instances of Bella's point of view, I'm still unsure)

Mr. Barnette prattled on and on, seemingly unobserving the lifelessness of his class. Quite a few of my fellow students had drifted off, one, Tyler Crowley, had even begun to snore lightly. How much could one man lecture on Romeo and Juliet? I knew the story by heart, had read it ages ago at my other school. His occasional analysis and breakdown of the play was amateur at best. I could sum it up better than he could in much fewer words.

The classroom irked me as well. The lights were too bright, giving me a headache. To find a dark corner would be like finding the Holy Grail in this place. The white walls were grimy and appeared slightly grey. The floor was a God awful forest green tile. Every desk in the class room had some sort of message etched or inscribed upon it's surface. My desk currently read "Free at Last". I could only imagine some poor pathetic six year senior etching this in during his last day of class with the old buzzard. But who could blame him? I was ready to wood burn "Down with the Crow," into the wooden top of the desk.

Mr. Barnette caught my attention as he walked back and forth in front of the class, his pace slow and annoying. His posture was weird and it seemed that he never fully closed his mouth. Even with his slumped over gait he was over six feet tall, a bit taller than me actually. In his prime he might have been athletic with his enormous height. His grey suit jacket clashed with his black trousers, and his argyle sweater looked atrocious. Had he dressed without looking at a mirror? His voice was bothersome as well, so very monotone. He continued to lecture on and on, but I could simply take no more.

I rolled my eyes at his tiresome lecture and grabbed my book bag from the floor. I threw my old copy of Shakespeare's plays into it, and zipping it up, I rose from my desk.

"And where do you think you're going Mr. Masen?" Mr. Barnette asked as I strode past him towards the door.

"Out," I muttered as I continued. As I walked through the door I caught a glimpse of the pretty brunette that sat in the front row. She was beautiful, no, more than that. Words couldn't describe her. She did, however, seemed un-amused at my display and turned her gaze to the window. Of course it was raining out, we where in Forks, Washington the most sunless place on the planet Earth.

"Detention," Mr. Barnette replied simply. We had been down this road before. But I'd take detention a hundred times over than listen to him go on for an hour over something that could be summed up in fifteen minutes. The only thing I'd miss about his class was the brunette, Bella. Such an appropriate name, I could stare at her for an eternity. But she and I would never work out. We were from two different worlds.

I took my detention as I always did, happily. I welcomed the silence of the room with open arms as I settled into my usual desk, this one reading "There once was a man from Nantucket.." and the rest was etched out. I suppose some creative poet decided to leave his mark. It was sad the rest of his composition had been erased.

I'd just stay here for the remainder of the day. Better here than home at least. Unfortunately, I was badly mistaken. About two class periods into my "sentence", my name was called over the loud speaker to report to the guidance councilor's office. Begrudgingly, I got up from the comfort of my chair and walked down the hall to the small room that housed the councilor.

As I walked in I was greeted by the warm smile of the brown headed guidance councilor, Mrs. Cullen. But also present was Mr. Barnette, whose expression was less than happy.

"Hello Mr. Masen, please have a seat," Mrs. Cullen said pointing to a chair next to my beloved English teacher. The soft pink vinyl was a nice change from the hard wood of my desk in detention. She had attempted to brighten up the office with homey touches. A flower arrangement was sitting on her file cabinet and a needlepoint reading "Home Sweet Home" hung on the wall behind her. She was a regular Mary Poppins, splendid.

"What seems to be the problem?" I asked dully, knowing full well the answer that would come.

"It seems you haven't been going to class, or rather leaving it," she answered. There was no malice in her voice, and under different circumstances I might have even liked her. Now, she was just a thorn in my side to be dealt with. I didn't respond; I just nodded in understanding of her words. Why would I contest it? It was true; I had left his class and often hadn't shown up. There was no need in lying; that would only add to my sentence, if I was getting one.

"He hasn't sat through one class all this semester," the old crow complained.

"Is this true?" Mrs. Cullen asked as she turned her attention to me.

"Yeah," I answered shrugging indifferently.

"And what do you have to say for yourself?" Mr. Barnette asked turning in his chair to face me.

"Nothing," I quipped, infuriating him further. It was obvious that my lackluster responses were not what he expected. He wanted me to contest what he said, to argue with him. I simply submitted that I had done what he accused and had nothing to say for myself.

"Nothing?" Mrs. Cullen asked, her expression turning sad.

"Nothing,"

"Mr. Barnette, could you please give Mr. Masen and I some time alone please?" she asked turning towards the gray old buzzard. He didn't seem to like these turn of events, but complied nonetheless.

"Ok," he muttered as he got up and practically stomped out of the room, pushing his ancient spectacles up his nose as he left- a habit that drove me insane.

"Now, Mr. Masen, could we please talk seriously for a moment?" Mrs. Cullen asked eying me.

"What is there to say?" I asked, not wanting to chat with her.

"You do realize that if you don't pass his class you will have to repeat the twelfth grade?" she asked, a serious tone taking over the kind one. Much like a parent would address an unruly child. Assessing her, I could tell she was the motherly type, caring and loving. I shrugged. In truth, I didn't know. I had to admit to myself that I really didn't want to repeat my senior year. This school was my own personal hell, entrapping me within it's walls and draining out my very soul. I couldn't handle another year, I just couldn't.

"He's going to fail you," she sighed.

"Then I guess I have nothing to do," I stated. Great, another year in the seventh circle, only Lucifer himself could make this more torturous.

"I have talked to him however, and if you attend the rests of his classes, three more weeks, complete your senior project with an A, he will pass you," she said matter-of-factly. I stared at her in disbelief. How could she convince him of anything? He hated me.

"I can still pass?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes,"

"Ok," I said, still in doubt. I could sit through a couple of the crow's lectures, and I could get an A on the project. If he graded me fairly, that is.

"So, do you plan on going to class, or do you want to take the failing grade now?" she asked, assessing my reaction.

"I'll go to class," I answered un-emotionally.

"Very well, is there anything else you'd like to talk about Edward?" she asked.

"No,"

"Nothing going on at home, no problems?" she queried.

"No," I lied as I stood from my chair.

"Alright then. I hope to hear good news from you next time. If you need to talk I'm here," she said sweetly as I left the room. I rolled my eyes and went back to my detention. At least I had one more day of peace before I had to encounter the rest of my torment.

**(A/N: Needless to say, Edward is way out of character in this story. But I promise there is more to him than just a bad attitude. This is different than the other stories that I have done, a lot actually. I hope you all will enjoy this change. I can't really go into detail, it would ruin the plot. Thanks for reading this and giving it a chance. Let me know what you think? Hate it? Like it? Need to read more? Review and let me know what you think. Thanks to my awesome beta Shanbug07, she keeps my stories rocking, lol. This is also a project for my creative writing class, hence the difference. My writing style needs to broaden, at least I think so. But, you can thank or curse that class for this piece)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two  
****Home Sweet Home**

**Warning:**** There will be use of profanity in this chapter and probably future ones. I apologize if I offend, it's not intended. It's merely for the sake of the character development!**

"Get your ass down stairs you lazy, good for nothing, piece of shit!" my dad screamed. Yet another wonderful day at the Mason household was to ensue. I pushed my laptop aside and walked out of my room. Might as well face it now, there really was no backing out.

"What took you so long?" he asked, enraged as I reached the first floor landing. I could smell the alcohol from the top of the stairs; it was almost smothering now being only three feet away from him. He was wearing part of his business suit, a nice disguise for the real world. His black, silk tie was barely hanging on his neck, the knot almost completely undone. The dark blue, button up dress shirt was hanging out of his black trousers and his jacket had been abandoned most likely in the den. He was slightly leaning against the wall as he sneered up at me. The black rage in his green eyes met my own hate filled gaze. My expression was enough to make him stand up straight and rigid.

"I decided to throw a party on my way down," I shot back sarcastically. His eyes flickered angrily, and he quickly closed the distance between us. His hand reached for my neck and he held me in a choke hold. I felt the blood to my head begin to stop and a popping noise started to flood my ears. I grabbed at his arms and tried to pull myself loose. I was almost free when he pulled the grip tighter. I began to gag for air, becoming desperate for a breath.

"What did you say to me?" he yelled and he pushed me to the floor. I fell with a loud thud, my back connecting with the edge of the stairs. I didn't yell out, I didn't want to give him that pleasure. I closed my eyes tightly, keeping the pain inside. I lifted my left hand and pinched the bridge of my nose, focusing myself to remain calm. A fight wouldn't do any good, I kept telling myself. That road was well traveled and only led back to the same place-no where.

"That I'm a good for nothing piece of shit," I answered, hoping he'd be satisfied with my degrading answer. I stared up at him angry and humiliated. Was this what he really lived for, to come home every evening from work and beat on me? Did he really suppress so much anger while being a divorce court lawyer that he had to use me as a punching bag? I didn't have to take his abuse, but I had no where else to go.

"That's right you are. Why the hell aren't you out making money? Do you think I'm going to support your lazy ass forever?" he asked bitterly.

"No sir. I didn't have to work today,"

"Get another job," he spat.

"I'm working two," I replied coldly. I worked as a part time dish washer and at the library on weekends re-shelving books for the elderly Mrs. King. With going to school, I was stretched to the limit, I had one free night a week, what did he expect, for me to just drop out of school? Not that I thought he'd care either way. He couldn't give two shits about if I were alive or dead.

"Get three then, you've got too much free time," he shot back.

"Fine," I muttered.

"Get out of my sight!" he shouted as he turned on his heel and headed to his "study", or what I liked to call his own personal saloon.

I got up, grimacing from the pain and walked carefully back up the stairs. No doubt my ribs were bruised. I was used to it though. This was just the tip of the iceberg that had been my life for the last few years. I'd had worse than this, I could cope.

It hadn't always been this way. My life was once happy, normal. But that was all flushed down the toilet when my mother passed away. My dad, a normally good natured man, had since turned into a raging, abusive alcoholic. He was unable to handle her death. He hit the bottle and never looked back, unless he was hitting on me. I seemed to be the root of all his problems. The one reminder he couldn't get rid of. He literally hated me in every sense of the word. But that feeling had long become mutual. I simply couldn't love him anymore and probably never would again.

Going back to my room, I picked up my laptop and sat on the edge of my bed. I glanced at the screen and then closed it in disgust. I had been looking at potential colleges before he had interrupted me. But why bother? He'd never help me through it, not that I wanted him to. I wouldn't qualify for financial aid, he had too much money. I didn't have the grades either, I'd let those go a long time ago. There was no chance for me to go.

Besides, I didn't need to go to college that was just another waste of time and effort. People like Mr. Barnette and my dad had gone to college, and they were complete idiots. Why waste my time to only turn out to be like either of them? I'd rather not even bother. I had wanted to go, but now I realized how impossible it was. A better paying job was my best bet. I would be getting out of here when I graduated. I would get a place of my own, work a couple jobs during the day, and at night I would have my music, the only thing I had ever loved besides my mother.

She had taught me to play at a young age; the piano was her instrument of choice. From the musical background she had imparted on me, I had been able to teach myself the guitar, and could practically play any instrument. If not upon picking it up, then within a few minutes of becoming familiar with it I could play it. They all worked the same. You found the notes, connected them into a melody, and then you had a tune. Once you had the notes down, you were ready, you could play. It was the one thing that I had of my mom that he could never wipe out, that he could never get rid of, and he hated it. When I would play he would start drinking, and after he'd had a few, he'd find me and let me have it. That's how it worked. He'd rather face the booze than face the music.

**(A/N: In response to a question I had in a review, yes, Alice and the rest of the gang will be in this story. Just keep your eyes peeled, they will make their appearance soon, I promise. I couldn't write a Twilight piece without them, it just wouldn't be complete without Alice..lol. Thanks for reading and for the reviews. I loved the response I got for this; I didn't expect that I would get much. Like I said, it's different. But I'm glad to see there is interest in this piece and I will be continuing it. I have the next chapter complete, I'm self editing and sending it to my beta tonight. Also, I've noticed my chapters are very short for this story, I apologize. Further chapters may be longer however. Please review and let me know what you think, like where it's going to far? Also, thanks to my awesome beta Shanbug07-you keep this rocking as always.)**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

**Chapter Three  
****The Devil's Advocate**

**Warning:**** Any profanity in this story is for characterization purposes only, I'm do not wish to offend. With that said, please progress knowing that profanity may, indeed, be found in the following chapter. **

A week of classes couldn't go by fast enough. Every day passed more slowly and more tediously than the last. Friday, both a blessing and a curse for me, couldn't come soon enough. Mr. Barnette stood in front of the class, lecturing on classical novelists and how our senior project was to take one and analyze one of their major works. No big deal, I'd read all the authors on his list and knew their works by heart. Insomnia creates a lot of extra time to fill, time I filled with reading. It was a quiet hobby that wouldn't draw any attention. Besides, I worked at a library, it took fifteen minutes to stock the shelves and I would read until Mrs. King needed some assistance.

"Alright, I'm going to pair you up, listen for your names," Mr. Barnette instructed with thirty minutes left of class. I rolled my eyes. I didn't want to work with anyone. I would rather do it on my own. Being my luck I'd get stuck with some idiot like Mike Newton, who didn't know Shakespeare from Faulkner.

"Ben and Angela," he announced. They both smiled widely obviously happy at the matching.

"Jessica and Mike, Tyler and Lauren, David and Lucy," He continued. I impatiently waited for my name as he went down the list, finally it came.

"Edward and Isabella," he said. My jaw dropped. How could he? I couldn't be her partner, I wouldn't be able to work with her; it would be too awkward. I would be too distracted by her beauty to get anything done. He might as well give me the big fat red F now.

He seemed to glance at Bella with an apologetic eye as he continued down the list. I looked at him with contempt. He really was out to get me. Satan meet Mr. Barnette, Mr. Barnette, Satan; they were truly one in the same in my book. This was the utmost torture, the most wrong, and cruel punishment.

She looked back at me; her expression was not a happy one. She seemed determined however, like she wasn't going to let me ruin this for her. I attempted to smile, what probably turned out to be a lopsided grimace. She nodded and picked up her belongings to take the seat next to me. All the pairings had come together to discuss meeting places, topics, and information concerning the project. Of course, the majority of the class wasn't actually talking about the topic, as usual. Instead the latest gossip and football scores were being passed about.

"Hi," she greeted, her tone indifferent. I hadn't actually heard her speak often, only a few times in passing. Her voice was beautiful, musical almost.

"Hey," I muttered.

"So, what do you want to do?" she asked, taking out her pen and paper. I shrugged, extending my hands out of front of me, stretching my arms across my empty desk.

"Are you going to be serious about this?" she asked almost angrily. I could tell she was un-amused at my less than enthusiastic behavior. But what was I supposed to do? Be grateful that I was going to be tortured for the next week by her very presence and that I had no other choice? Not that she was a disagreeable person, just being around her for the duration of the class was going to be hard enough. I didn't know if I would be able to stop my self from staring at her. Never had I been so attracted to someone like I was her. It was almost unnatural how I was drawn to her. I had never spoken to her before, never even shared any sort of friendly gesture but yet there was this odd gravity about her that just sucked me in.

"Yeah, I thought you'd like to choose," I replied, a bit amused at her temper. She was even more beautiful when she was perturbed. Her forehead was slightly scrunched and her lips were in a tight line, if you could call it that. They were incredibly full and appeared pouty despite her serious demeanor. I had to quit staring, she would think I was some weird freak. Yeah, it was going to be hell. I scooted to the edge of my desk, needing distance between us. She would be the death of me.

"I was thinking Bronte,"

"Bronte?" I asked incredulously. "Wuthering Heights" was a very dark romance. I couldn't believe she would actually be interested in her works. I was sure she would have chosen Austen or Shakespeare. She seemed the type to choose either of them. But then again, as I stared at her though the corner of my eye, I could tell she was deeper than that. There was more to her than what appeared.

"Yes, you know, "Wuthering Heights"," she responded as if talking to a two year old.

"Yeah, I know," I answered, "I just didn't think you'd read her work,"

"Why not?"

"It's dark," I replied shrugging,

"You've read it?" she asked, a look of shock crossing her face. I grew a bit annoyed at her assumptions. I wasn't stupid, I just didn't enjoy class.

"Yes, I can read you know," I shot back; aggravated that she was being condescending.

"I'm sorry, you just don't seem like the type to read it,"

"Neither do you," I pointed out.

"Touché," she answered. I smirked at her lame sense of humor, and waited for her to continue.

"Well, where do you want to meet and when?" she asked.

"I work 4-8 most evenings," I replied, "Doesn't matter where."

"How about my house at eight thirty to ten?" she proposed.

"Ok,"

"Here's my address, can you meet me there tomorrow?" she asked as she handed me a piece of notebook paper she had hurriedly scribbled her address on. Her hand writing was verily legible, and that surprised me. She seemed very neat and structured.

"Yeah,"

"Alright, if you have a copy of the book, bring it," she instructed. I nodded and she got up to leave. She walked over to Angela's desk to chat and I suddenly felt very lonely. What was it about her that drew me in? She had been sort of rude to me. But it seemed she was hiding behind her sarcastic demeanor, as if she had some skeletons in her closet that she didn't want anyone to see. I could relate. Maybe that was it? Maybe we were two in the same?

I pondered on her a bit longer, wondering about her character. She was mostly withdrawn in class and in the halls. She had a few friends that she hung around everyday; Angela Webber and Alice Brandon were her closest as far as I could tell. But even with them she seemed only partially there. Her attitude, I had a feeling, was just a way of keeping people at bay. As an outsider looking in, it seemed she was pulling herself away from those she cared for most. Why was she so afraid of relationships, just mere friendships for that matter?

Thinking of relationships, I had noticed she had never dated anyone. I knew Mike Newton had been harrying her since I could remember, but she never gave him the time of day. Eric Yorky had even shown interest, but he too was shot down. Why was this angel so cold? Why couldn't she commit or have any sort of relationship? But wasn't I being hypocritical? She did at least have friends, where I did not.

The bell rang and I rose to leave, the beautiful brunette still on my mind. The evil chuckle of Mr. Barnette ringing in the back of my mind as my thoughts grew more and more tormented. He may have thought he had won, but I wouldn't give in that easy. I would complete the project if it was the last thing I did. I refused to sit in class with him for another year. There would be no way I could handle another year, not for love or money. Not that either held any particular weight for me.

**(A/N: Apologies for the tardiness of this addition, but I've been loaded down with papers. Nothing more fun than writing a personal memoir! (Heavy Sarcasm Intended) But, procrastination has brought this chapter to you earlier than what it should have been. I'm supposed to be self editing said memoir, but this was a lot more appealing. Anyways, thanks for all the reviews! I love getting feedback. It keeps me inspired, let's me know that you're interested in this story. With that said, please review and tell me what you think so far? Love it or hate it, I want to know. Also, my superstar beta Shanbug07 and I have recently created a joint penname and plan on co-authoring a few pieces. (Twibug). We have a great story currently in the works and I really think it's going to be great, we should have the first chapter posted pretty soon. Also, we created a C2 Twibug's Twilight Zone, check it out. If you want to be a member of the staff let either of us know and we'll add you. With that said, I just want to say thanks to Shanbug07 for once again keeping this story fly, lol. And I also recommend you check out her new story Changes, great stuff)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**Chapter Four  
****Heathcliff and Cathy**

**Warning:**** This story contains profanity. I apologize if I offend anyone, it's not intended. With that, please read ahead knowing that it could possibly be found in the following chapter. **

"Edward, it's fifteen after eight, get outta here," Louie yelled as he came in through the service entrance with a sky high pile of crusty dishes.

"What about all those?" I asked as I put down the water hose like sprayer.

"I'll take care of 'em; I know you need to get out of here," the gruff old man said as he sat the dishes in the sink. He was slightly hunched over, the result of his many years as a dishwasher. His gray hair was slicked back and a slightly oily; his attire was the same as always, a white button up required dress shirt and a pair of black slacks. Even the people bussing the tables had to look good. La Bella Italia required the uniform, one I was wearing almost against my will.

"Are you sure?" I asked as I dried my hands on my pants.

"Get out of here already," he replied as he gave me a gentle push towards the door. I clocked out on my time card and headed out. Being at work, even though it was tiresome and hard at times, was a great escape from home and my dad.

Knowing that I was already late, I hurried to my car and hopped in. Putting the keys into the ignition and starting it, I sped out of the parking lot and back towards Forks. While I had never been to Bella's house, everyone practically knew where everyone else lived and the police chief's residence, her father, was no secret.

It was eight forty when I parked my car in front of the quaint two story house. I looked down and noticed my shirt was very dirty from work. I couldn't go in looking like a bum, but I had planned for this. It was rare that I would leave work with only one spot on my clothing, let alone spotless. I grabbed my back pack from the passenger side, and unzipping it, I pulled out the t-shirt I had packed. I pulled off the white button down, and put on the fresh shirt. Glancing in the rear view mirror at my reflection, I saw nothing horribly wrong with my appearance and sucking in a deep breath, I was ready to go.

Taking my backpack with me, I approached the front door and rang the door bell. I waited patiently for someone to open the door. The police cruiser, I noticed wasn't there. That gave me some relief. I wasn't a trouble maker, not with the local authorities at least, but the thought of the chief made me nervous. I had a feeling that he would be analyzing my every move like one of the CSI detectives on the popular TV show.

I had been standing for a few minutes and was beginning to think that no one was going to answer the door when it was finally jerked open.

"Sorry, I was just pulling some cookies from the oven," she breathed. Her face was flushed and her hair was a little disarrayed; what a beautiful mess.

"It's alright," I responded, a bit taken back by how lovely she looked standing there out of breath, wearing the cream colored apron.

"Come on in," she said as she moved back from the entry and opened the door wider. Upon entering, I felt as if I had been sucked back into some weird twilight zone. The furniture was from the seventies most likely and the wall paper was outdated. She smiled warmly as she closed the door and rubbing her hands together appeared to be formulating what to say.

"Homey," I broke the awkward silence as I stood just inside the door.

"Yeah, you could call it that,"

"What would you call it?" I asked, smirking at her sarcasm.

"My dad unable to let go of the past," she sighed.

"I understand," I replied before I could fully think out what I was saying. Would she wonder at the meaning behind it? Could she see through my façade?

"Want some cookies?" she asked changing the subject. While she was smiled, it seemed oddly forced. Had I reopened a wound for her?

"Sure," I answered as my stomach growled in agreement. I hadn't eaten anything all day. My dad was in another raw mood and I went straight to work without tempting a trip to the kitchen.

She took the lead and led us through a small hallway and into her equally outdated kitchen. The cabinets were yellow, as if to bring in the feel of sunshine, but the effect was lost. They appeared to be yellowed from gas heat, and looked sort of dingy. The kitchen was not dirty however, it was quite clean. The white laminate counters were spotless as well as the stove and table in the corner.

"I would offer you some milk, but were out," she apologized as she handed me the plate of three warm chocolate chip cookies.

"That's alright, I don't really care for it," I lied, not wanting her to feel sorry. She seemed really different in this setting, so fragile. At school she seemed so distant, yet she had friends. She never seemed open and warm. But here in her kitchen, she appeared so human, so open, and so very vulnerable. I detected sadness in her eyes and in the way she smiled. I wanted to make her happy; I wanted to see this more human, warm side more often.

"I have lemonade and cold water," she offered as she walked to the refrigerator.

"Lemonade please," I replied as I took a seat at her table, sitting my black back pack on the floor next to me. She took a glass from the cabinet beside the fridge and filled it with the golden liquid. It wasn't the bottled stuff that I had expected, but homemade. She sat the pitcher on the counter and closed the door of the refrigerator. Taking another glass from the cabinet and sitting it on the counter, she filled it too with lemonade. With the glass of lemonade in hand, she walked towards me.

"Here you go," she said as she handed it to me. I smiled and took a small sip. It was delicious. It wasn't too sweet as the bottled stuff tended to be, or too sour as the homemade kind usually was. The lemons could be tasted but the sugar kept them from being over powering. It was the best lemonade I had ever had.

"Like it?" she asked as she watched me take another, much larger drink.

"Love it,"

"It was my grandma's recipe,"

"It's delicious," I complimented as I took another drink and sat the glass down. I picked up one of the cookies and took a small bite. The chocolaty goodness instantly spread across my pallet. I could tell that these too were homemade.

"Grandma's too?" I asked before taking another bite.

"Sorta, it's a mix between my grandma's and my mom's," she answered. As she replied, she turned around quickly and picked up her own cookies and glass of lemonade that she had poured.

She turned back around, fake smile in place, and walked to the table with her food.

"Did you bring your copy?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said as I picked my book bag up from the floor and took out my book.

"So what do you think of it?" she inquired before taking a bite of her cookie.

"I think it's dark, I don't really care for it,"

"I love it myself. I know it's a little odd, but Heathcliff and Cathy did love one another," she replied as she sat down her half eaten cookie on her white plate with a pink floral print circling the perimeter.

"But why so much hate?" I asked, not understanding how she could like such a foul book. Never had I read so much hate in my life.

"Well neither had a mother present, and both were spoiled during some point in their lives. Heathcliff for only a while and Cathy throughout,"

"But that doesn't give proper reason to hate,"

"I think hate is what Heathcliff was created to do. Look at his situation in life,"

"He may have had a rough start, and rough patches, but we all have those. You don't have to hate the world just because you've had a tough time. Besides, even when he got his vengeance he wasn't satisfied," I inputted. Heathcliff was accountable for his situation. His hate fueled and rendered most of the backlash he received.

"But do you think that's really what he wanted at all? Don't you think that he really wanted Cathy and to prove to her that he was just as good as Linton?" she asked before taking a bite of her cookie. I watched as she nibbled on it slowly and seemed to contemplate her own words.

"I think maybe he valued hate a little too much, and because he rated it so highly, he lost everything he really wanted," I replied, still watching her munch on her cookie.

"I agree," she smiled as she sat down her half eaten cookie.

The rest of the evening was spent evaluating Charlotte Bronte and how her situation in life possibly influenced the work. My eyes were growing heavy when we finally closed our books.

"Tomorrow then?" she asked as she stood from the table taking our dishes with her.

"Sure, but I can't be here until nine, I have work,"

"That's great, I have work too,"

"Where do you work?" I asked as I gathered my books into my back pack.

"Newton's,"

"The outdoor outfitters?" I laughed, not seeing her fitting in.

"I know, but it's job," she giggled. Lights blared in the windows as a car pulled up.

"Dad's home,"

"Well, I guess I better go. I hope he's not mad that I am here so late,"

"He won't be, don't worry," she dismissed as she walked me to the door.

As we approached it, it was opened from the other side. A chubby, curly, brown haired man I immediately noticed as Chief Swan walked in.

"Hey," he smiled as he closed the door.

"Hello," I answered politely.

"Dad this is Edward Masen, my English partner," Bella introduced.

"Nice to meet you Edward,"

"Nice to meet you too,"

"Is that cookies I smell?" the chief asked as he started towards the kitchen.

"Chocolate chip," Bella called after him. I noticed then that he was wearing a gun belt along with his brown regulation uniform.

"Well I've really got to be going," I said before yawning.

"See you tomorrow,"

"Nine right?" I asked as I reopened the door to let myself out.

"Nine's great,"

"Bye Bella,"

"Bye," she smiled as I walked out and closed the door. The impression that that smile left on me was one I would never be ever to rid myself. She was truly happy in that moment. Could I make her happy?

**(A/N: This chapter is a bit of a change, obviously. But I hope the effect is understood. Edward isn't constantly wired to be bitter and sarcastic, he can have his moment's as well. As always, what did you think? Like it or hate it, I'd like to know. With that, please review! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, I really appreciate it. Also, thanks to my beta Shanbug07, she keeps this story going. I suggest you check out her story "Changes", great stuff. I highly recommend it. We have also created a joint account and plan to co-author a story soon, keep your eyes pealed for that-Twibug the penname.)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Do You Feel Like a Man?

**Warning: This story contains profanity. I do not wish to offend anyone, it is merely for characterization purposes. With that said, please continue on knowing that it could be found in the following chapter!**

**A/N: Just a brief note, will be more at bottom, in chapter four I made a slight mistake. The author of Wuthering Heights is not Charlotte Bronte but her sister Emily. Charlotte Bronte wrote Jane Eyre. Just wanted to clear that up! Thanks to the reviewer who called my attention to it!! Carry-on!**

Nine o'clock couldn't have come fast enough. My dad and I fought horribly when I got home the night before. He tried to pull the good parent bullshit and insisted I should tell him where I was going, like he even really cared. My body was sore today, he had got a few good punches in.

Sitting across the table from Bella, I noticed she seemed really withdrawn. Her eyes were dull and her pale complexion seemed even paler.

"Are you ok?" I asked when she began to rub her watery eyes with her hand.

"Yeah, just tired," she answered a bit too quickly, pasting the fake smile onto her face.

"We could do this another time," I suggested, even though I had waited for this all day.

"No, we need to get this finished," she insisted.

"We have three more days,"

"Yes, but we still need to put together a visual for our presentation,"

"If you insist," I gave up.

"I'll just be right back," she said rising from her chair across the table from me. I nodded and watched her walk from the kitchen and out of site. I heard her walking up the stairs, quickly by the sound of her footsteps. I sat back in my chair, closing my eyes. I wanted to know what was wrong with her. Maybe it wasn't my place to ask questions or even my business for that matter, but she seemed troubled, even more so tonight.

But really, I had no business pondering into her problems. Why was I so concerned? It wasn't like we were friends or anything. This was just a project we were working on and the moment it was finished everything would go back to the way it was. She'd go back to her friends and I'd go back to being alone. That's just the way life worked. I wasn't a masochist, and I wasn't going to cause myself any unnecessary pain over her. It was time to realize that I was here for school purposes; there would never be anything between us. Our worlds were just too far apart.

I heard footsteps at the stairs again, pulling me from my thoughts. I was determined for the rest of the time to be spent solely on Emily Bronte. Just as I made up my mind, I heard a tumbling sound and then a loud crash. Without a thought, I jumped up from the table, my extremely bruised ribs protesting, but I cared not. I had to see if she was ok.

Turning the corner, I found her on the stairs, appearing to be laying there looking up at the ceiling. I could see sobs wracking her body, and I instantly, again despite the pain in my rib cage, rushed up the steps to where she lay in the middle and bent down.

"Are you ok?" I asked, rubbing her hair from her face. I could see big tears flowing freely. I had a feeling they were not only coming from the fall.

"Y-yeah. The breath was j-just kn-nocked out of me," she sobbed, sitting up on the step.

"Are you sure?" I asked, looking her in the eyes.

"Y-yeah,"

"Here, let me help you up," I replied, offering her my hand. My heart was breaking seeing her so broken. Each tear that fell seemed like a drop of acid on my heart, searing and burning it until I was all too aware of it.

Her big brown, and now extremely wet, eyes met mine. Yet another stab at my heart. What about her could make me stand here and take so much pain and yet refuse to leave? One part of me was saying just go back to the kitchen and she'd make it there when she was ready, and another was saying stay, help, don't leave, never leave. Maybe my decision on not being a masochist needed to be reevaluated? I wasn't going to leave until she was alright, no matter how hard it was seeing her that way.

"You don't have to help, I can make it up," she sighed, still sitting.

"Just take my hand, I'll help you get back to the kitchen," I commanded lightly.

"Thanks," she sighed giving up. She took my hand and pulled herself up. Instantly, a ripping searing pain tore through my ribs. Maybe pulling her up wasn't such a good idea? And if I didn't think it could get any worse, it did, she almost fell again and nudged into my sore left side. I simply couldn't take it. My body was too bruised and abused to take even this slightest nudge, the old man really had gotten me good this time. He had made a fool out of me. That's all I could think as I fell, tumbling down four steps and to the bottom floor. I heard Bella gasp, but I couldn't see as I clinched my eyes together, trying to hold in the pain, the screaming I wanted to emit. It was as if my lungs were my enemies swelling against my rib cage and my heart the most cruel and unusual punishment as it beat against my chest, each thud like a stab.

I felt her hand touch my face, and my eyes opened.

"Edward! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean too…" she started but stopped. I glanced at her wide eyed, wondering what had possibly made her stop. I followed the direction of her gaze and realized my shirt had risen up slightly in my fall, but enough to allow her to see the evidence. A large dark blue, almost black bruise shown like a beacon screaming, "Look at me!" All the hiding, all the avoiding I had ever done, shot down in matter of seconds. She knew; she had to realize it. I didn't get that from falling down the stairs, not that quickly at least.

"I-it's nothing," I said quickly, covering up the bruise by pulling down my shirt. My side protested at my quick movements, and I groaned despite myself. I didn't want to show her how bad it hurt, didn't want her to know I was barely hanging onto consciousness, avoiding sickness, it hurt so bad. She couldn't know about it.

"Edward, you're almost black you're so bruised," she said, bending down to search my eyes. The brown orbs bore into me as if they were seeking out my soul. Beautiful, enchanting demons they were at that moment. I'd have loved to see her like that any other moment in time, but there, then, that was not what I wanted. I never wanted her, or anyone else for that matter, to know about my life. And she wouldn't, I decided. I'd lie.

"Really, I'm ok. I just had a bad fall earlier this week at work, crashed right into the side of the dishwasher," I lied, surprising even myself at how fluidly it came. But I had been lying ever since my mother died. Practice makes perfect, and lying was something I knew and practiced often.

"Edward, that didn't come from one fall," she accused, still searching me over with her innocent eyes. I hated her then. How could she see through what so many had failed to? How could she know? Everything I had built up to protect myself, to hide from the shame, she was knocking down.

"Really, it's nothing. Just a fall, nothing for you to worry about anyway," I replied with an added edge, daring her to question further. Her eyes narrowed, anger suddenly pouring into her expression, chasing out the worry, just what I wanted. If you couldn't get them to believe you, you pissed them off. It was the rule of thumb, pissed off people don't give a damn. I suppose that's why I had so many friends to boast of. Anytime anyone would get remotely close to revealing the truth, not even that close, I would cut them off, treat them like crap, and move on. It hurt, but it was worth it. I had learned though, it was better to not ever make friends. The less ties to sever the better. It hurt me just as bad as it did them, probably more so. I knew why it had to happen.

She stood up straight, hands on hips. She was cute when she was mad, as cliché as that sounds. I could tell though she was more hurt than anything. I'd been rude to her, without any real reason. But, that's just how it had to be.

Focusing on standing, I carefully pulled myself up using the banister. As bad as it hurt, as much as my body protested, I didn't whimper and barely cringed. I needed to get out of there, and fast. I was going to be sick, my stomach was churning and the all too familiar queasiness was becoming more and more prevalent.

"I need to go," I said, looking at my wristwatch, pretending to see the time.

"Yeah, ok," she muttered. I didn't speak; it would take too much energy. I made my way to the kitchen. How I managed without stumbling, was beyond me. I got my backpack, which weighed ten pounds at most but felt like fifty, and started towards the door.

"Are you coming over tomorrow?" she asked, shocking me that she would have me back. I thought I had compromised everything. I thought she would finish the project on her own, tell the old bat that I didn't do the work, and I would of course fail the class and have to repeat my senior year. I stopped to look at her for a moment. She was hurt yes, but I could see more behind her expression. Could she actually care?

"I'll try," I managed to say, still unsure if it were wise for me to have any further contact with her. It was down to the question of whether or not I could take the chance of exposure or redo my senior year. Maybe I could sit with the old crow for one more year. It wasn't like anything would be a surprise. But then again, being away from her was going to be hard. I could see it in her eyes, she actually cared and not that generic care that everyone tends to give someone when they are going through something. But the kind of genuine care that is given from the heart, the kind I'd only experienced once before, from my mother.

"Alright, just show up at the same time if you want. If not, I'll take it that you bailed," she sighed, sinking back into her chair. I nodded, unable to trust myself anymore with words, and vacated the house.

My car was a happy sight. I couldn't wait to get in and drive off, to escape, to just get away from here. I had to think. I could come up with something better right? Maybe I could tell her I was a part time UFC fighter? Obviously, I wouldn't be known, I was the loser. My bruises would be evidence for that. But I had a feeling she would see through it anyway.

Opening the door, I slid my bag back off my shoulder and leaning forward slowly, I dropped it in the passenger seat; I then took the drivers seat and took off. I needed to get away. I had to clear my head and think.

Driving home was an extremely hard task. My head was hurting and my stomach protested my every move, threatening nausea. My house, for the first time in a long time, was a welcomed sight. I pulled into the driveway, leaving my backpack in the passenger's seat I opened up the car door and stepped out. I simply had gone through too much. My knees buckled and I hit the ground. My stomach could no longer hold out and I began to vomit. Wave after wave of nausea crashed upon me. When I felt I could spill no more, I began to dry heave.

I lay down on my side on the cool pavement, too weak to move. Was this how it was going to be? Was I possibly dying? My body seemed to agree. It seemed like everything was shutting down as a thick fog took over. My vision started to become black and I was slowly losing consciousness.

Right before the lights were turned out completely, I vaguely made out a set of lights pulling into my driveway, my dad. I stopped fighting all together and allowed my body to shut down. I'd rather go into a coma than face him. He'd probably be angry and tell me to clean up the puke on the driveway. Probably demand that I eat it off of it. I could never understand why he beat and punished me the way he did. Maybe in his sick twisted mind it made him more of a man? Or perhaps he was afraid I was more of one than he was? Whatever the measure, I'd say he was just sick and I didn't feel like putting up with him. I happily allowed myself to plummet into the dark unconscious waters of my mind. I'd take peace where ever I could find it; even if it were make believe.

**(A/N: No, I didn't drop off the face of the Earth or die, I just had a lot of homework and was unable to devote any time to this. With that said, I'm very sorry to have taken so long to update, but I could simply find no time to write. With the end of the semester quickly approaching, I find myself loaded down with work. Final exams are on the horizon and I'm studying during all my free time. So updates are going to be slow for the next bit, I apologize. But I thought I'd let all the readers know before hand. I really hope I don't lose any of you because of this, but understand if you become frustrated and give up. With all that on the table and out of the way, what did you think of this chapter? Good, bad, ugly, I want to know what you thought! Review and let me know your thoughts. As always, thanks to all that have reviewed and continue to review, your input is greatly appreciated. And, also thanks a million and one to my beta Shanbug07. For those of you who have read the Waiting for Forever series, she now has the unedited copy of the Epilogue and when she finishes it, I will post it. Lastly, we are working together to on a co-penname Twibug and will have a story published soon. So check it out. Also, Check out her story Changes, great stuff, I highly recommend it! Also, the title of this chapter, Do You Feel Like a Man was taken from the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus song, it sort of inspired the chapter.)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six  
****Can't Let Go**

**Warning: This chapter may contain profanity. I'm sorry if I offend, it's not intended, it's merely for characterization. With that in mind, please continue on knowing it could be found in this chapter.**

Floating around in the dark waters of my unconscious, I was still tormented. The pain, however, was not physical. I couldn't feel, see, or hear for that matter. But I could think and the thoughts were racing. Her image continued to replay over and over, always the same hurt expression. I wanted life to be different, wanted to be able to explain to her all that was wrong, but I couldn't. I couldn't let anyone know what had been happening for so long.

I gladly trudged through the tormenting sea however. Thoughts were a lot less painful. I couldn't face my dad, couldn't take any more physical abuse. My body had already physically shut down from his torture. Another hit and my mind could possibly become my permanent home. As much as I embraced being unconscious at the moment, I didn't want it to be a permanent thing. I just needed to escape his wrath for the time being. Once he was calm or out of the way, I'd gladly try to come to.

But before I could further contemplate my unconscious state, my senses began to flood back to me. At once I felt a tugging at my shirt and what sounded like sobbing. I knew my father wouldn't be sad to find me in that state. In fact, it would probably please his sick demented mind to know he had been the cause.

"Edward, Edward…please wake up," the shockingly familiar voice called out to me. Was it my mother? I couldn't place it. It was feminine. It sort of reminded me of my mother's sweet voice, with always a hint of concern when I was doing something wrong or hurt. But, no, it wasn't and couldn't be my mother.

"Edward, please, don't die, don't do this," the voice pled. I felt a small, cold hand touch my right cheek. It was soft and I welcomed the touch. My eyes gradually began to open and through the blur, I knew I was in trouble.

She hovered over me kneeled on the pavement just beside my vomit. She looked haggard and was extremely teary eyed. I wanted to open my mouth and comfort her immediately, but I was too shocked. How and why had she come here? I had just left her. What had I done to be punished this way? What kind of cruel joke was God pulling?

"Edward! Can you hear me? Are you ok?" she asked, her words pouring out quickly. I could only nod. What would I tell her?

"We need to get you to the hospital, I'm so sorry I hurt you," she spoke quickly again, rubbing some of my stray hair from my eyes. The touch of her fingers against my skin left a tingling sensation, almost burning. It was as if I had been exposed to my first hit of heroin, I'd never get enough. I wanted her to hold my hand, keep her hand on my cheek, I wanted all those things. I had never and didn't think I would ever feel that way about anyone.

"No!" I exclaimed comprehending her words. I couldn't go to the hospital. They would know what was wrong. Any doctor with any sense at all would know. Hell, a quack could diagnosis the problem.

"You need to go, look at you," she insisted, still hovering over me, watching me carefully with her brown orbs.

"I can't," I replied. The taste of vomit was still thick in my mouth. If there had been anything left to expel from my stomach, it would have been easy to do. The taste was sickening. I needed a glass of water.

"Yes, I'll take you."

"No. I really can't go."

"Yes, Edward you can. You need to," she replied, her expression tormented.

"I'm ok, I just had a little accident getting out of the car and I got sick, no big deal," I lied.

"It's all my fault. Please go to the doctor, I didn't mean to nudge into you like that and accuse you of lying,"

"It's not your fault, it was just an accident," I said, pained by the hurt once again present in her expression. It was not her fault that I was here and I couldn't stand for her to take the blame.

"But it is; I knocked you down my stairs. I just lost my footing for a second, I'm so clumsy…" she prattled on quickly. I could tell she wasn't going to stop and I needed to say something.

"Listen, this really wasn't your fault. I had an accident a few days ago, my ribs are a little bruised and when you nudged into me, I just couldn't take it. It was not your fault, you had no idea," I interrupted. Her expression turned quickly from lined worry to deep frown. She must have known I was lying.

"Edward, how did you do it?" she asked, eyeing me closely. I could see she wasn't going to give up easily.

"Fell down my own stairs, I have a knack for being clumsy as well," I explained trying to joke to lighten the mood.

"That didn't come from one fall," she replied.

"No it didn't," I replied simply, letting her take it as she would. It was then I decided I was able to lift myself up. The swirling that had been present in the back of my head stopped, only a constant thud remained like a stubborn headache.

"Do you need help?" she asked as she moved back to allow me room to sit up.

"No I got it."

"You need to get up off the pavement, do you think you can manage, I could try to help."

"I can do it," I answered as I pulled myself up, using the side of my car for support. Normally, I was flexible enough to stand without aid, but I was a bit weak.

Standing up, my head began to spin, but I was able to maintain control. Bella stood up as well, looking up at me. Her small 5'2 frame looked even more so next to my over six foot height. She was tiny, probably only slightly larger than her friend Alice, who was what I would classify as a pixie.

It was then I became increasingly conscious of time. My dad would be arriving any moment. She couldn't be here when he arrived. He'd be sure to humiliate me in some way and maybe even make a snide or crude remark towards her.

"Are you ok?" she asked as she took a step towards me.

"Fine, I guess I'm just going to go in, get cleaned up," I replied for lack of better excuse. It was getting increasingly harder for me to think on my feet when she was around. It seemed that one whole side of my brain was devoted to her, and it seemed to be the dominate half. I could focus on little else.

"Alright, but you really should go to the hospital,"

"Really, I'll be fine," I reassured her, though I wasn't a hundred percent sure myself.

"Ok, well here, let me get the book you left," she said as she started walking towards her huge, old, red truck.

"I left a book?" I asked, thinking that I'd grabbed everything.

"Yeah, your copy of Bronte. I didn't know if you would be coming back to my house so I thought I'd bring it over," she answered as she opened the driver's door.

"Thanks, I could have gotten it at school," I replied, shocked she'd drive over here in her gas guzzling truck to bring my book.

"Yeah, well I wanted to make sure you were ok,"

"You didn't need to worry bout me," I replied, touched at her honesty. She took my copy from the seat and walked it over.

"I know, but I don't particularly like to hurt people and have them run off looking like death; I just needed reassurance. Then I get here and you're sprawled on the driveway…" she started but trailed off.

"Really Bella, it's ok. I just had a fall too many,"

"Yeah, well I wish you'd go to the hospital," she said as she started towards her truck.

"I'll be ok, I promise,"

"Are you going to come back tomorrow?" she asked, a hopeful tone present in her voice, which probably was only concern.

"Yeah," I replied before thinking it out.

"Good, I think we can finish it up tomorrow," she said as she hopped in the driver's side.

"See you tomorrow," I called out as she started the truck with a loud thundering roar.

"See ya," she replied as she shifted into reverse and backed out of my driveway onto the street. I watched as her truck and lights faded from sight.

It was then I knew I needed to hurry up and take action. Against all my body's protests, I sprayed off the driveway with the hose and gathering my things, made it up to my room before my father pulled up. I immediately went to bed, not turning on a light, audio device, or anything else that could bring any attention. I simply could not face him tonight.

I heard the front door open and then slam shut. I remained completely still as I listened to him thump to his office. The house grew relatively quiet as the sound of my breathing filled the room. Tired, and unable to hold onto consciousness any longer, I fell asleep. I could only hope that my father was too busy for me tonight.

**BPOV**

The twist and turns of the street offered a sort of distraction from my thoughts. I still wasn't sure why I had to go over to check on him. The moment I found him I knew something was horribly wrong. The deep purple bruises didn't come from any singular fall, or two for that matter, they had came from multiple "falls". I was clumsy enough to know all about bruises. The hospital staff and I were pretty much on a first name basis. There was no way a fall or a few falls could cause all that.

No, someone was hurting him. What I didn't understand was why he let it happen. He was big enough and old enough to stand up for himself. As much as I wanted to ask, come out with it, I knew I couldn't. It was obvious he was shielded, and had been for a while at that. He didn't need someone prying. He needed a friend, someone to turn to. When he was ready, he'd tell me. At least that's what I hoped.

I had almost allowed him to walk out of my life when he left my house. I was hurt that he wouldn't open up to me. But then again, I wasn't completely honest with him. The moment I noticed his book, I found an excuse to check on him. The way he looked before he left was awful. Worse than death seemed more like an understatement.

The bright lights of my porch met my eyes as I pulled into my driveway. My dad still wasn't home, which I found relieving. I liked my dad, loved him in fact, I just couldn't bare to look at him at that moment. We both knew what was going on. Both knew what the other was trying hard to hide. But we wouldn't let each other see it, couldn't cause any more pain for the other. That's how it worked with us, hide it and pretend to be ok. Not a successful coping device, but it didn't cause anymore unnecessary hurt.

Parking my monstrous truck, I got out and went into the house. It was empty and lonesome as always. Despite the presence of my father, the house always seemed void of life. Maybe the outdated décor had something to do with that, or possibly other things? The fact of the matter was, we both were holding onto too much and it only started with the seventies wallpaper that each of us refused to take down or paint over. Maybe Edward's problems were similar? Maybe he couldn't let something go? For that I couldn't criticize.

**(A/N: Apologies again for not updating sooner. It's the week before finals week and I'm loaded down with homework, so I've not had much time to devote to this. Hopefully it turned out ok. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I really appreciate it. Also, as always, thanks to my beta Shanbug07! So, as with every author's note, I ask that you please review, I want to know what you think so far, love it or hate it, please review!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Answers and Questions

**WARNING: This chapter may contain profanity, it's for characterization purposes only and not meant to offend. So please continue with that in mind!**

**EPOV (Unless indicated the rest of the story will be done in EPOV)**

I still was unsure if I should be going back to Bella's house. When I woke up earlier, my whole body was sore, but I had told her I was going to be over. As I turned into her driveway however, I couldn't manage to shake the sick feeling that remained in my stomach, like hot acid being poured over it, melting away all the flesh. She was closer than anyone had ever been to me, much too close for my comfort. But oddly enough, I couldn't seem to get myself to push her away as I had the others that had trodden so near the truth. She wasn't like the rest, something about her was different.

Parking my car, I lifted my heavy messenger book bag from the passenger's seat. Slowly walking up the few stairs to her front door, I rang the door bell and waited for her to answer. It was pitch black out and the only light came flooding from out of the tiny half circle window at the top of her door. I heard her footsteps and then the door opened wide.

"Hey," she greeted. It seemed oddly forced and certainly half hearted. She smiled at me weakly as she moved aside. Could she possibly regret having me back in her home?

"Hey," I replied back an indifferent tone.

"I didn't know if you'd be coming back, I was making some dinner," she said as I walked in the house closing the door behind me.

"That's fine, I'll just work on the poster while you cook," I replied as I followed her to the kitchen.

"Are you sure? You could just wait till I get finished, it should only take a few more minutes," she said as we walked into the deliciously smelling kitchen. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I walked into the swirl of warm, rich aromas. I immediately recognized garlic in the mix of wonderful smells; the others were not as easily identified.

"Smells great," I blurted out. I instantly felt like an idiot.

"It's stroganoff and I cut up a salad," she said as she walked over to the white and black stove and stirred the contents of a deep grey pot, "would you like some?"

"Err, I wouldn't want to intrude on your dinner," I replied.

"Really, there's more than enough for me and Charlie. I usually throw a large portion of it away," she insisted as she put down the wooden spoon on the space on the stove between the burners.

"Thanks, I think I'll try a little, it smells amazing,"

"No need for thanks, I love to cook," she smiled as she turned back to the stove. That smile was different than the others I'd witnessed. It was truly genuine. A small sparkle twinkled in her eye for that moment, something that had been missing in the others.

"You seem to be really good at it," I complemented as I turned to the poster. I neatly wrote the title on the blank white canvas. It wasn't the best handwriting, but it was legible.

"Wow, you're hand writing is great," Bella exclaimed as she walked over to see what I had done.

"Nah, it's ok." I replied.

"Really, you have great handwriting," she repeated as she returned to the stove.

"My mom always made me practice," I sighed, remembering all the times I would sit down with my mom and write my name a countless number of times. She was a perfectionist and she wanted to instill the same characteristic in me.

"My mom would try to get me to practice writing, I was just too stubborn," she sighed, keeping her face turned away from me. I watched as her left hand lifted and wiped under her eyes. She sighed loudly and then turned to face me. Her eyes were shining bright with tears held back. My stomach tightened as I witnessed her in such a disheveled, barely held together state. I wanted to tell her it was ok to cry, I just didn't know if she wanted me to actually notice her this way. I decided for a moment to put a blind eye to it, let her become comfortable.

She turned off the contents on the stove and walked over to the corner cabinet and took down plates. I noticed they were mismatched and some were chipped. But I also observed that she handled them with extreme care as if she were afraid they'd fall to pieces in her hands. Something about those mismatched dishes meant something to her, but what I couldn't fathom.

"Charlie and I usually don't make a big deal out of dinner. I usually fix a plate and eat at the table while he takes care of himself and goes to the living room, so just help yourself to whatever you want," she said as she turned off the stove and placed the spoon into the pot for serving. I nodded and watched as she placed the bowl of salad next to the stove with a pair of salad tongs hanging out and grabbed down a few cups from the cabinet she took the plate from. She was very careful with them as well.

Standing I walked over counter next to her and waited for her to serve herself.

"I hope ranch or Italian s ok?" she asked as she pulled a couple unopened bottles from another cabinet.

"Yeah, either's fine," I replied. She took a plate and heaped a little salad and the tan noodle dish she identified as stroganoff into her plate. I followed her example and helped myself, adding a little ranch to my salad. I was about to ask for a fork when she gave me one from a drawer that was located next to the sink and I followed her to the table.

"I'll just move this aside," I said as I placed the poster against the wall that the table was pushed against.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to get anything on it," she laughed. She and I sat our plates down at the same time and I took a seat. She however went to the fridge, took out the lemonade from the other day, and brought it and the cups she had set out to the table.

"I thought you might like some more, if not I have water or milk in the fridge," she offered as she sat down the pitcher and cups on the table between us.

"Lemonade is fine, thanks. I really liked it the other day," I responded as I poured some into my cup. A thick silence grew between us as we began to eat and a tension seemed to fill the air.

"I think we'll be ready for our project," I said, deciding to break the silence.

"Yeah, we have it set up really well. We should get an A," she replied between bites of salad.

"I hope. I don't think Barnette likes me though," I said before taking a bite of the stroganoff. I had never tried the dish before and I felt that I had really been missing out. Whatever it was, though I really couldn't pinpoint what was in the substance other than noodles, ground beef, and some sort of creamy sauce, it was delicious.

"What do you expect?" she asked, eyeing me seriously. She did have a point. But really, I just found it unbearable to stay in his class for its entirety. The last week had been a living hell. I'd go in, take my seat, and his monotonous lecture would commence, much like it had the day before. He never showed emotion towards the stories he explained, which led me to believe he hated what he did. I could understand why he wasn't passionate towards every piece of work we had to read, but not all of it was boring.

"I mean really, I know that not everything in life is to be exciting, but couldn't he spice up things a little?" I asked, before taking a bite of stroganoff.

"I guess he could. But that's besides the point Edward. You could stick it out like the rest of us. Trust me when I tell you we all feel the same way about him," she reprimanded much to my shock. Despite myself, I smiled at her. She looked cute when she was frustrated.

"I suppose you're right," I sighed, giving in. She just nodded as she continued to eat and a thick silence developed between us. I would from time to time glance at her to see that she was staring down at her plate, not really eating. She seemed to be enveloped by some sort of day dream, but it appeared to be unpleasant as her facial expression broadcasted her pain. Her lips were in a tight frown and her forehead was slightly scrunched.

"Is everything alright?" I asked, unable to bear the silence any longer. It killed me to see her in pain. Whether I really wanted to admit it or not, I liked her. Part of me was drawn to her and I couldn't help it. I wanted to be with her. Although we were probably complete polar opposites, I knew I didn't want to be away from her anymore. I wanted her to be my girlfriend, when I was with her I felt suddenly at ease, at peace, and somewhat happy. I hadn't felt that way in years, not since my mother had passed away.

"Yeah," she muttered, as her shoulders seemed to collapse even closer together. It was like she was trying to hold herself together.

"Bella, you can tell me," I replied, wanting, no, needing to ease the pain that was crushing her so.

"Really, it's nothing, nothing," she sighed as she began to shrink, her shoulders appearing to collapse against her frame. Her body started to shake as her fork fell from her hand and clanked onto her plate. I didn't say a word, I pushed back my chair and walked over to her, I took the seat next to her and wrapping my arms I pulled her next to me. I knew it was risky, but I just couldn't sit back, I needed to do something, needed to take whatever pain it was away. Much to my surprise though, she didn't pull back. She buried her head against my chest and sobbed even harder. I held her shaking form against me as her tears soaked my thin shirt. What could I do? How could I make the pain stop?

I slowly started to hum a tune that came to my mind and smoothed her hair away from her face. My body felt a little sore holding her to me so tightly, but I could deal with it. The physical pain that I was going through amounted nothing to the emotional and mental. It was just too much to bear seeing her go through so much and not knowing how to comfort her. I wished the right words would present themselves to me.

"Bella, shh, it's ok," I tried to comfort, between humming. She seemed to calm down a little but I continued to hold her. A few moments passed and I felt her sigh against my chest, my shirt now slightly clinging to it from the moisture her tears had created.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled as she pulled away, wiping the tears from her stained cheeks.

"It's alright, don't worry," I replied, giving her the best smile I could muster. I could only imagine that it came out as a grimace. I just couldn't be happy seeing her so sad and any attempt to show happiness was going to come out half-assed at best.

"I'm not worried, it's nothing," she shrugged off, pulling herself back together as she swiped her face one more time and I moved away, giving her space. She was retreating within herself once again and it hurt me.

"It's obviously something if it has you upset," I replied, prying further. Usually, I wasn't a nosy person. The business and matters of other's didn't concern me in the least, but she mattered to me. I wanted to know what went on in her head, wanted to know what haunted her. Most people I could read easily. Humans were predictable and elementary to decipher, but not her. She was more complex, deeper, and more troubled.

"Really, I'm ok. Today's just not a good day," she answered.

"What's wrong with today?" I pushed. I knew I was skating on thin ice with her. At any moment she could burst and tell me to leave, but I had to try to penetrate her shield, had to know what was wrong.

"I guess you don't know," she sighed, looking down at the table.

"No, I really don't."

"My mother died today when I was twelve," she stated matter-of-factly as she glanced at me for a moment then back down at the table. From the sadness that emanated from her it was easy to see the torment that came from her simply stating the causation of her pain. As soon as she voiced it though, everything fell into place. The outdated wall paper, the plates she treated with such special care, and the sadness that would threaten to pour over every time she mentioned her mother all suddenly made sense.

I felt like a complete idiot. I had noticed the absence of her mother, had known she wasn't there, but I never linked the pieces. She wasn't different than me at all, other than the insane father; we were one in the same. She had lost a vital part of her when her mother had died, as did I. We were both broken souls, left to the torment of trying to build our lives again after tragedy had shattered them. Her turmoil came from both her and her father's unwillingness to let go. The place was a museum, a living tribute, to her mother's past. My problems were both less and more complicated. I had long since accepted that my mother had passed away, the grief was unbearable at times, but through living, I had learned to adapt to it. The only pain that I had neither control nor grasp of was that of what my father inflicted upon me.

In ways, our fathers were not that different. Her father, while he never struck her, or at least I was positive he didn't, inadvertently inflicted pain upon her by being distant and an enabler. Not even the strongest personality could have made it through in her home. She was stuck in a time warp that was strangling the life from her, and had, I was sure, for the last six years.

"I'm sorry Bella, I didn't realize," I spoke finally, wishing I could come up with something better to say. But I knew from experience that no words created comfort. They were nice, but that's were they ended. They neither patched the soul nor healed the wounds. I knew there was nothing I could say to make things better, and that tore me to pieces.

"It's alright. You didn't know what happened," she replied, giving me a weak smile.

"No, but I should have never pushed you Bella. It's none of my business," I sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. The excitement of coming over had quickly vanished with sadness and regret left.

"Really, it's ok. If I hadn't wanted you to know, I wouldn't have told you," she said.

"If you want, I can go and we can finish this up tomorrow," I replied.

"No, we need to get this finished. Besides, your presence seems to take my mind off of it a bit," she answered, looking up at me. Her eyes stayed on me as I studied her expression. Her face seemed calm and sincere. Her long eye lashes were wet and almost crystalline in appearance with the tears that clung to them. Her eyes held the same glassy look and were a bit swollen from her crying. In her disheveled, honest state, she was beautiful. I felt as if I were finally seeing her for who she really was- a kindred spirit to my cracked and destroyed soul.

"I'll stay as long as you want me," I replied, fully meaning it.

"Thanks," she sniffed, "Edward?"

"Yeah?" I replied.

"What's your deal?" she asked, making me instantly stiff. Did she have to go there? Immediately, I pinched the bridge of my nose with my left hand, a habit that I had gotten from my father at an early age. Anytime I was confronted with a problem or developed a headache, I'd advert to my long time habit. I felt her cool hand on my forearm, willing me to open my now closed eyes. I wanted to look at her, but I feared it would be my undoing.

"Edward, you can tell me," her voice pled, battering my protective walls like gunfire, gradually tearing down my resolve. Her hand gently squeezed my arm and I opened my eyes. Her innocent teary eyes bored into me as if she were seeing into my very core. It was very unsettling and despite myself, I shuttered as a chill ran down my spine. How could she do that? With one look she had penetrated down to my very soul, it was amazing and unsettling all at the same time.

"It's not that easy Bella," I replied, trying to brush her off. She was playing with the lid to Pandora's Box and had no clue what she was unleashing; all the pandemonium and pain.

"I understand Edward. But maybe if you talk about it, it could help?" she suggested. Any other person who had unleashed that psychiatric bullshit on me and I would have stormed out. But one look in her eyes melted all my anger and determination. I knew that she wasn't questioning to be nosy, but that she really did want to help me, or at least she thought she could help me.

"Bella, you don't know what your asking," I replied, grabbing at straws. At that point I would have told her anything to make it stop. I was so internally conflicted. What would she say if I told her? What would she do?

"No, because you won't tell me. I promise no matter what it is you tell me, I won't tell another living soul. You can have confidence in me," she voiced. I sighed, closing my eyes again, trying to regain some control. But as I shut my eyes, I felt suddenly so tired and burdened. A big part of me wanted to tell her, to have her to confide in. My body seemed to be agreeing with my mind as my side began to ache dully.

"What do you want to know exactly?" I asked, opening my eyes, looking down at the table in the same manner she had before.

"Well…how did you get the bruises?" she inquired, her voice shaky. I took a deep breath at the protest of my ribs and tried to gather my thoughts and words. What should I say? Be blunt? Oh, those are no big deal, my dad just sporadically likes to beat the shit out of me for no apparent reason other than he's a no good drunk. That however wouldn't work. I didn't want to be an ass hole myself.

"How do you think I got them?" I probed.

"I really don't know Edward, I honestly think someone's hurting you," she replied, and with her admission my ears began to burn from the rush of my blood pressure. She did know. A part of me began to panic as I realized how open and vulnerable I had become. She in one small sentence had torn down all the protection I had put around myself.

"Edward?" she asked, as I again felt her small hand on my bicep. I slowly exhaled, not realizing that I was holding my breath and the room seemed to become clear. I had lost focus of it as my thoughts began to race and my heart thudded against my chest. What could I do?

"Hmm?" was all I could muster.

"It's true isn't it?" she asked, her small had squeezing my arm as if to keep my attention. I gulped down the saliva that had gathered in the back of my throat and looked over at her. Her expression was worried, her eye brows were scrunched and her lips were in a tight line. What should I say?

"Yes," I heard myself mumble. It was almost as if I hadn't registered the response until after it happened. A part of me wanted to race out of there and out of Forks all together. I was literally wearing my heart and soul on the outside of my chest, I was showing her what really made me tick, the twisted existence of Edward Mason.

"Who?" her voice came out small. It was as if she were retreating inside herself.

"Can we just drop it?" I half asked and half begged.

"Edward, I won't tell anyone, you can trust me," she repeated.

"My dad, alright?" I answered, half aggravated. I turned my attention to the table. There it was, I was officially bare, without any shred of a shield. Anytime she wanted she could tear me to pieces, destroy what minimal amount of existence I had left.

Out of know where, I felt her small hand caress the side of my face. I grew instantly stiff. Her touch tingled as her fingers rubbed along the side of my face. I glanced over at her and saw that tears had formed in her eyes.

"Bella, what is it?" I asked, shocked to see her crying.

"I just don't understand why he would hurt you," she voiced, much to my shock. It was then my heart was pierced, shattered, but in a good way. For once in a long time, it was warm; it didn't beat icy hot venom, but warm flowing blood. She did care about me, and not in a concerned "everyone is sad when they find out a kid has been beaten way", but a genuine caring.

"It's ok Bella," I voiced as I wrapped my arm back around her, pulling her to my side.

"No, no it's not. You don't deserve that," she replied.

"I know, but don't worry about me, I'll be fine," I told her, wishing that those words were true. In all honesty, there were times when I didn't know if I would make it out alive.

"Don't put up your brave front for me Edward," she simply replied.

"I'm not," I lied.

"I saw you yesterday, remember?" she pointed out. I kept her close to my side, still waging a mind battle of what to say next.

"Yeah, I know. And I'm here today right?" I laughed.

"It's not funny," she said, her voice showing not one tone of humor, but plenty of annoyance.

"Sorry. But nothing's going to change and I just have to look at the grey side of things," I replied.

"The grey side of things?" she asked, not registering my sarcasm.

"Yeah, you know the light at the end of the tunnel? The light at the end of my tunnel isn't really a light, just a lighter shadow," I explained.

"Edward, that's really not funny," she sighed. I decided to keep my mouth shut for a moment. I didn't really have any response. In a sad way, I guess it really was pathetic that I saw my life so dimly. But what was to be expected? Was I supposed to go through what I had and come out seeing rainbows and unicorns? Life didn't register that way with me. The brightest beacon in my life was her and unfortunately enough, I was afraid that any moment some huge down pour would come and drench out the flicker of light that she was. Heck, there really wasn't even a flicker there. She was just my project partner, maybe friends at most, and that realization was like hot acid pouring over an open wound. What would happen when we no longer met up to do this project?

"Edward?" she questioned.

"Yeah?" I replied.

"What is it?" she asked, still leaning against me, my arm still wrapped around her.

"I need to ask you something actually," I replied, still trying to formulate my words.

"Shoot," was her reply.

"I need you to promise me that no matter what, you will not tell anyone what I told you," I said, waiting for her reaction. I knew it could have been registered as an insult, but to be honest, I needed reassurance. I didn't need a bunch of social service people rushing into my house to look me over and see what they would think was my polished, divorce court lawyer dad. They would obviously think that I was lying in some way, and after it was all said and done, I'd still be there, with him, and the word pain would probably not even come close to defining what he would cause me.

"Edward, I said that you could have confidence in me. I really mean that," she replied.

"No matter what though, ok?" I pressed.

"Fine, no matter what," she sighed in annoyance. A huge weight was lifted from my chest as my worries for the moment were lifted.

"Bella,"

"Yes?" she replied.

"What are we? Project partners, friends…?" I asked, wondering myself. What did she think of me?

"Both…." She replied, her voice trailing.

"I have to warn you, I'm not that great a guy," I laughed.

"I know you Edward, you're all show," she joked.

"I'm not the only one," I snorted.

"That was low," she giggled.

"What? I see how you are here at your house and how you are at school. You such a magnificent person but you don't let anyone see it," I replied with honesty.

"And you, Edward, are a pompous ass at school who blocks out everyone, and who I thought was a terrible person. But you know? I had it all wrong. You're really great, smart, insanely smart actually, and a nice guy if you'd just show it," she said. I felt the words register deep. Me, smart, funny, and nice? Not exactly what I had expected her to say. But it meant a lot to me that she thought of me in such a way. Not that I was all those things, that I was for certain, but a least she didn't think I really was a "pompous ass", like everyone else.

I glanced down at her to catch her staring at me. Her cheeks held a deep blush but she didn't look a way. I felt myself slowly being pulled closer to her, like two magnets helplessly moving closer despite all the protests that were screaming and echoing in my head. She moved closer as well and that was all the reassurance that I needed at that point.

Our lips were about to touch and it was like electricity was flying off from both of us. It was the proverbial spark that I had only read about. I was closing in, my heart racing, pounding in my ears, and then the door opened.

In a split second Bella jumped up and was at the counter when her dad walked into the kitchen.

"Edward," he acknowledged as he walked over to Bella and grabbed the plate she was offering. I leaned back in my seat, the adrenaline literally rushing in my ears. What had almost happened? And what did it mean?

**(A/N: First and foremost, apologies for any mistakes found in this chapter. I got anxious to post it and it has not been beta read. So any grammatical errors or mistakes in this are my fault, sorry! Also, sorry for taking sooo long to update, but this is an extra long chapter in comparison to the other's I've posted, so I hope that makes up for such a long hiatus. If you read In the Arms of an Angel, you probably have figured out that I've been writing on it again, and with that, I've pushed this aside. Not really intentionally, but the muse struck for that story and left me on this one so I really just had no inspiration to write on this piece. But I finally was able to come up with something and I have to say, it was quite a chapter. A lot happened and I'm really wondering what you all thought? Like or hate the progression? Glad they opened up to one another? Please review and let me know what you think. Suggestions and constructive criticism are welcome as always. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed!!!! Oh…and I know I mentioned in this chapter that Renee deceased, anyone have any ideas concerning how she died?)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Where Dreams End and Reality Begins…

Warning: This chapter may contain profanity. It is for characterization purposes only and not meant to offend. Please continue with that in mind!

Mind racing, heart pounding, adrenaline rush didn't even begin to describe what I was going through. We had almost kissed and I wasn't for sure if it was the right thing or not. I had caught her at a vulnerable moment and had almost taken advantage of her. I was a dog, a dirty stinking mutt. That's all I could think of as a lay in bed, waiting for the night to end and for day light to break so I could get ready for school. There was no chance of me going to sleep. My mind was once again the proverbial Benedict Arnold and proved too distracting for me to drift off.

I had heard my dad stumble in hours before and knew he had passed out some where by the silence that filled the house. He must have been in a charitable mood because that made two nights in a roll that I had escaped his wrath. But if I knew him well, he was only waiting to unleash some type of cruel punishment that was horrible by even his standards. For the time being however, I would take his peace, even if I did feel like it was the calm before the storm.

Glancing over at my alarm clock, I saw that it was just a little after four. I was exhausted beyond measure and wanted desperately to sleep. But I couldn't quit thinking about how things were going to be between us now. She knew everything about me. There were no walls between us. There was still a sick feeling that flooded my stomach at the thought of her knowing so much about me. It was a natural defense for me to feel threatened at the smallest things. For the last few years, I had been learning how to pick up on the cues of others, mainly my dad, and how to divert them from the truth or at least ready myself for the pain. Now I didn't know what to do or think. I had failed to hide the truth, should I ready myself for the pain that could come?

But she wouldn't tell, she had promised. And even though I hadn't known her that long, I felt that I could have trust in her. I watched as the digital numbers on my alarm clock ticked away, burning through the minutes I had left before I would see her again. I needed to get it pulled together. Maybe she wouldn't even mention the kiss? She could possibly see it as no big deal, and that I was just overreacting?

I distinctly remembered seeing the numbers 4:57 before I some how fell asleep. Even in slumber, however, Bella plagued me. I kept dreaming of her, over and over. Her innocent look, the tears clinging to her lashes, and the pull her full lips seemed to have, like two beautiful magnets with a magical lure that was older than time. As much as my mind was telling me to stay way, I just couldn't resist.

~*~*~*~

What little sleep I did get, to say the least was not restful. I really hated myself as I walked into Mr. Barnette's class. It was going to take Herculean effort to keep myself from drifting off during his sleep-alluring lecture. I was one of the last in class before the bell rang. I caught a quick glance of Bella as I walked down the isle to my desk and I was surprised that she looked haggard as well. I sat down pondering her tired state as the old crow walked in, taking his seat at his desk. As usual, he planted his hands on his rotund belly and with mouth open, proceeded to take inventory of the room. He looked like a huge, grey ape trying to catch a fly with his mouth. Then he started class in the same manner of all the preceding classes- he licked his lips and pushed back from the desk slightly closing his mouth for a second before the lecture would commence.

"As you know, tomorrow starts presentations, be ready, all of you. You will be called up in random order," he voiced. His eyes seemed to linger on me though, and I knew Bella and I would be going first. He might have relented and given me a chance to pass, but he wasn't going to make it easy. But I was confident I was ready for him. Our project was well put together and we both knew our Bronte. I couldn't have asked for a better partner.

As class continued on with him droning on about Hemmingway, I found that no matter how hard I tried, my eyes would linger on Bella. I tried focusing on the dirty white tiled floor and out the window, but each time my eyes would find the back of her head. I wanted to know what she was thinking. After what had almost happened between us, I felt guilty. But at the same time, I was thrilled and disappointed. I had wanted to kiss her; there was no denying it. Then I began to worry about how tired she looked. Had I caused that?

Time ticked away at a snail's pace as I fought off sleep and tried to keep my eyes off of Bella. I was almost ready to relent to sleep, when the bell rang and alerted me before I could completely doze off. As I stood up and walked out of the room, I noticed two things. One was that Mr. Barnette was glaring and me, and two that Bella had jetted out of there. Was she going to avoid me from now on? Were we just going to give our presentation and that was it? I knew I wasn't the most desirable person, but that was cold. With that thought, my whole body seemed to react. My heart wretched at the thought of not being able to be around her anymore and my mind was screaming that she knew too much, that she would tell.

My feet seemed to be thinking for me as I came to a stop in front of my locker. I barely ever used it and was surprised that I had ended up there. I twisted the lock entering my combination, and swung the metal door open. It squeaked as it gently clanged against the locker to my right and I took inventory of the objects I had stored away. My unused biology book was stuck in the corner; a little dust had even collected on top of it. I took it out and placed my English book in it from my messenger bag. I slid the biology book in my bag and shut my locker, securing the lock. I turned around and was surprised to see Alice Brandon staring up at me with her huge green eyes. To describe her simply, she reminded me of Tinker Bell. She was petite, very petite. Unlike Tinker Bell, however, her hair was dark, jet black actually and was so short that she styled it into tiny little spikes. No other girl in the school could get away with the look but her. It was so oddly unique, and yet I couldn't picture her any other way. It just fit her.

I glanced at her not know what to say.

"I'm Alice," she said, sticking out her hand.

"I know who you are," I laughed as I shook her little hand. Mine easily swallowed hers, and it reminded me of a small child's. Did she think I lived under a rock of oblivion or something?

"So, I need to talk to you about Bella," she said, getting straight to her point. I noticed the hall was clearing out and knew we would need to talk later if we wanted to get to class. Actually, I needed to go, I had a test.

"Maybe during lunch?" I suggested.

"Alright, I'll meet you outside the cafeteria doors," she replied.

"See you there," I answered as I walked away. I felt the odd sense that she was going to rip me a new one. There seemed to be a threat brewing behind her wide green eyes, as they appeared to grow a couple shades darker. I felt suddenly nervous about what she was going to say. Was she going to tell me to stay away from Bella? That Bella didn't want to be around me anymore?

I walked into my Calculus class confused and wondering how I had let my life get so complicated.

~*~*~*~

Lunchtime seemed like ten years into the future as I sat waiting for the bell to ring after my Biology class. I had made it through Calculus remarkably and it was even a possibility that I had done well on my test. Calculus seemed to be second nature to me, and I considered it my easiest class. It was one of the only ones I really took serious. My teacher, Mrs. Goble, was very good at teaching it and was brilliant in general. If I ever had to choose a favorite teacher, she would be it.

Mr. Banner glanced at the clock as he sat down his clipboard and walked to the center of the room.

"Alright class, before you go I want to remind you that you have finals next week and that you need to start studying now. You will be taking a comprehensive test; it will not be over just what we have done these last few weeks. I want to stress that to you now, it will be over everything we have gone over this year," he announced before the bell interrupted and we all flooded out of the room like a fire was ignited.

I picked up pace when I realized that Alice Brandon was waiting to talk to me outside of the cafeteria. I needed to hear what she had to say before I went completely insane. As promised, she stood waiting outside the cafeteria doors. I came to a halt in front of her and waited for her to commence.

"This won't take long, " she promised.

"Well, what is it?" I asked, my patience more than worn thin. I had gone over so many possibilities since she had first approached me and I just wanted to hear what she had to say.

"I talked to Bella today and she mentioned last night," she replied. I felt myself gulp as I pondered the meaning of what she had just said. What about last night had Bella shared?

"And?" I replied, not giving anything away.

"She told me that she talked to you about her mother,"

"She did," I answered. What was so wrong with Bella sharing that her mother had died with me? Was it supposed to be classified information? Or to Alice Brandon was I unworthy of her friend?

"She's not opened up to anyone in a while. I'm not sure what she sees in you Edward, but she must see something. She doesn't make friends, she been pushing her old ones away, and you waltz in and she opens up, I don't understand it or like that she can talk to you and not me, but I know she needs to talk to someone. Be good to her and don't mess it up," she replied getting to her point.

"I'm not going to," I said.

"I'm sure you won't," she replied as she walked away, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. I followed behind her and saw her sit down beside her boyfriend Jasper Whitlock, he smirked at me, giving me the vibe that he was trying to unnerve me. I smirked back and continued on to the lunch line, unaffected but his glare. Being around Bella was going to be hard. Her friends, I could tell, were very protective over her, but I understood. She had gone through a lot and really didn't need any extra drama in her life. But I wasn't there to add any problems; I wanted to help her, be there for her when she did want to talk.

I went through line grabbing a piece of pizza and an apple. I paid the lunch lady and took my usual secluded seat off to the side by myself. A few people had tried to accompany me since my arrival. Mike Newton thought that he could befriend me and gain some sort of badass status. What he failed to realize was even if I was willing to put up with his company during lunch, nothing could wipe away his Abercrombie and Fitch physique. Besides, I wasn't a bad ass as he so bluntly put it. I was a loner. I went against the grain, but I wasn't about raising hell. Like the few others that had ventured my way, I gave him the cold shoulder and politely declined the company.

As I picked at my pepperoni pizza, I found myself suddenly without an appetite. I was tired of being alone. I wanted someone to be there. More specifically, I wanted Bella to be there. I picked up my apple and studied it, and just as I was about to give up on eating and just toss my tray, a small shadow suddenly appeared over part of the table. I turned to see Bella standing there, her tray in her hand.

"Care if I sit?" she asked.

"Not at all," I replied, as I held back the smile that was threatening to emerge. My day suddenly didn't seem so horrible.

"Thanks," she sighed as she took a seat.

"So, what brings you over?" I asked, as I studied her. As I had noted before she appeared tired. Her eyes were darkly rimmed and her complexion seemed slightly more pale than normal. She was slouchy dressed in a loose fitting black Breaking Benjamin t-shirt and a pair of dark washed jeans. She appeared to have gotten out of bed, thrown on the outfit, and came to school. But despite all of that, I still found her explicitly beautiful.

"I just thought you might like some company and I was wandering if you thought our project was finished or if it needed more work," she replied before she took a bite of the pizza that was on her plate.

"I'm used to being alone, but yeah I think we are finished. Do you think we need to go over it again?" I asked as I glanced down at the table. The dull gray laminate met my eyes, seeming to reflect my mood. I was tired.

"So you don't want any company?" she asked, her tone seemed slightly hurt. I lifted my gaze to meet her sad expression. Her lips were in a small frown and her eyes were wide.

"That's not what I meant. I was just saying that if you were just coming over here because you felt sorry for me, that's alright, I'm used to being on my own," I explained. I wasn't a charity case and I didn't need sympathy. Besides, I could feel the death glares her friends were sending my way boring holes into the back of my skull. I didn't need to turn around to know that they were watching my every move.

"I'm here because I want to be. I wanted to talk to you," she replied. Her face was now serious. I could tell she had taken some offense to my accusation and I felt guilty for hurting her. Maybe Alice was right. Maybe I wasn't good for her.

"What were you wanting to talk about?" I asked, as I rolled my apple across the table.

"The project for one, and last night for another," she answered. Her cheeks blazed a little as red crept across her face.

"What about last night?" I inquired, ignoring her question about the project. My heart thundered against the inside of my chest, awakening me to the anxious feeling that had slowly been building since she had approached my table.

"A lot happened," she replied.

"I'm sorry," I sighed, feeling that I had a lot of apologize for.

"For what?" she asked.

"Everything. Prying, overstepping boundaries…" I trailed, not wanting to be the first to address the incident.

"Nothing happened Edward, I told you about my mom because I felt like it," she answered before taking a bite of her food.

"But what about, well, what about my almost kissing you?" I asked. I needed to bring it up. It would have pestered me to no end if I hadn't. I had to know how she felt about it.

"It's not as if I ran away or anything Edward, and besides it didn't actually happen," she replied, trying to close the subject. I wasn't for sure if I liked that she was just trying to put it behind us or not. Did I want to just forget that it almost happened? What had I really expected? She hadn't ignored me like I thought she would and she wasn't telling my secrets, but part of me was hoping that she was craving the kiss like I was. I felt so attracted to her, so protective over her, and I hoped that she had felt the same for me. Knowing that she was just trying to bury what happened hurt. But who said love was always reciprocal? That was a lesson I had learned long before- love is not always returned and is sometimes crushed.

"Yeah," was all I was able to muster. I knew it was lame when it left my lips, but I was too emerged in thought to come up with anything better. My eyes were once again diverted to the table and I felt completely drained. My emotions had been running so high all day and I was tired of riding the emotional roller coaster. I was ready to get off at eternally depressed and remain there. At least then I knew what to expect. With no high hopes and no outlook, the drop wasn't too far and the pain that came from failing wasn't too severe. This however, was a whole new level for me. I didn't know how to deal with this. All the up's and down's and the feeling of being constantly on edge was getting to me. The last few days were suddenly wearing really heavily on me.

"Edward, what is it?" Bella asked. I glanced up for a moment to catch her piercing brown eyes boring into me. I looked back down and just shook my head, unable to explain myself. How could I explain that I liked her when she made it painfully obvious that she just wanted to be friends?

"You know you can talk to me, at least I hope you know that," she sighed, disappointed.

"It's nothing really, I'm just tired," I lied, holding my apple still between my two hands.

"Edward, if last night is really bothering you that much, don't let it. We are both guilty of almost kissing each other. I may have been upset, but I knew what I was doing," she voiced. My eyes slowly crept up, trying to judge the sincerity of her statement. Her cheeks were slightly blazing at her admittance and I knew she was telling the truth.

"So you don't feel like I pressured you?" I asked, feeling suddenly as if a thousand weights had been lifted from me.

"No, I don't," she replied, looking down, her face glowing red.

"You wanted to kiss me?" I probed farther.

"Do we have to talk about this any more?" she asked, still gazing down at her tray.

"Yeah,"

"I don't know, yes, I guess," she replied obviously frustrated.

"I really wanted it to happen too," I said. In that split second, I decided to tell her how I really felt. There was no need in holding back. If she didn't want me in her life as a boyfriend, I needed to know. If she just wanted a friend, I would try to be one. It would be painful, but I would try.

"You did?" she asked glancing up at me, her eyes wide in amazement.

"Yes, I did,"

"I thought maybe you felt sorry for me, that's why I was just trying to play it off," she explained. I started to laugh as I realized that both of us were expecting the worse. We really were two of a kind.

"No. I felt guilty that maybe I had taken advantage of you," I explained and we both began to laugh. We laughed for a few minutes and the serious thick mood that had encased us before was quickly dissolved and diminished. It was probably from our lack of sleep, but we laughed for a few moments until we both sighed loudly. I was literally slap happy at that point. I was running on E with just two hours of sleep and she didn't look as if she had gotten much more than I had.

"Soo, what does all this mean?" Bella asked as our laughter tapered off.

"I don't know, what do you think it means?" I asked.

"I'm not for sure," she replied honestly.

"I won't lie to you Bella, I do feel some weird connection to you. It's like there's some magnetic pull between us. You are the only person I have trusted with my secret and I honestly can't explain why I told you, but it felt right and still does," I tried to explain.

"I know what you mean. A lot of people feel sorry for me because I lost my mother, and I don't like talking to them about it. But you're different. It's like I can talk to you about anything and you won't try to feed me some kind of sympathetic line that won't change anything," she said. I felt myself smile as I listened to what she had to say. She was right. I understood where she was coming from, probably more than she realized. I knew that words made no difference. But I was also beginning to understand that it was good to have someone to talk to.

The bell rang signaling that lunch was over. We stood and took our trays to the trashcans, emptied them and left them for the lunch ladies to collect. Although we didn't really establish what we were, we had drawn a few lines. I knew that she had feelings towards me, and she knew how I felt. I walked her to her class, not really saying anything. As she stopped outside her History class, I gently rubbed my fingers across her smooth cheek and then turned to walk away. I had wanted to kiss her, but not that way. I wanted it to be special, not outside her classroom for the first time for nosy prying eyes to see.

There was a lot I was still unsure about, but as I walked into my gym class, I knew that we were more than friends and that I couldn't have been happier. My life was suddenly beginning to have meaning again and the gray was slowly fading away.

(A/N: So this update has taken me a while to hammer out, but honestly, I just couldn't seem to get this chapter to turn out quite the way I wanted it too and am still a little disappointed in it. Writer's block has sunk its claws once again into my brain and this chapter just seemed impossible to finish. But, here it is. I hope that it's not completely terrible. Once again, I didn't send this to a beta, so it could be mistake ridden. I have done self-editing, but I'm sure I have overlooked something. Sorry if the mistakes become distracting. With all that said, I want to say thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I was amazed at the number of people that commented! I love getting reviews and appreciate all your feedback. I hope you all find this chapter entertaining as well and don't feel that it is a complete filler. Please review and let me know what you think. Suggestions and constructive criticism are welcome! Also, what did you think of Alice's debut?)


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Somewhere Between Shakespeare and Hemmingway

**Warning: This chapter may contain profanity; it's for characterization purposes only and not meant to offend. Please continue on with that in mind.**

I left school feeling very much relieved. I was exhausted from the lack of sleep, but I felt re-energized after I had spoken to Bella. It was like a part of me that I had left to wither and die was suddenly awake and vibrant again. My whole being was ignited with a drive and I finally had something to look forward to.

I waltzed into the library with what was probably a huge cheesy grin plastered on my face. Besides Bella's company, there was no other place I would rather be than there. Books for most of my life had been companions when I had no one to turn to. Through the tragedies and triumphs of the characters I had learned and confided. I went to the library every day possible; getting a job there was a plus.

Mrs. Burchett, the librarian, stared at me with wide shock. There was no need for me to check to know that the wide grin was in place. But there was nothing I could do about it. For once in a long time, I was happy, so happy in fact, that no matter how miserable my life really was, it didn't matter. Nothing seemed to be able to take away the joy that I had found. To be honest, I didn't feel like masking it either.

"Well hello Edward, you seem happy today," Mrs. Burchett said as I walked behind the desk and pinned on my name tag. Her gray hair was pulled up into a tight twist as usual and her small black glasses were perched on her pointed nose, it was her signature look. She never wore her hair differently and the two years I had worked there, she had kept the same frames. She was a simple person and I liked her for it.

"Ahh, I guess," I replied, still smiling like a fool. Mrs. Burchett looked at me as if I had gone mad. It was only normal though, she'd never seen even a hint of a smile on my face and I had been coming there regularly since I moved to Forks. Her wrinkled brow was twisted into confusion and her blue eyes continued to bore into me with her bewilderment. I chuckled at her and she snapped out of her daze.

"I've never seen you so happy before, you must have found a girl," she sighed, smiling brightly back at me. I was a little taken aback that she had guessed it so quickly, but then again, she had gotten to know me somewhat since I had came to Forks.

"Something like that," I laughed as I walked over to the cart of books that needed re-shelving. As usual, there wasn't many, roughly ten, and it would take me no time to finish.

"I know love when I see it," she replied simply, her eyes sparkling with wisdom. I shrugged my shoulders, not denying or confirming it as I pushed the old squeaky cart away from the check out desk and to the shelves.

I quickly located the books' places upon the shelves and put them away. After I had finished re-shelving, I walked down the narrow isles between the book cases and straightened up the few volumes that had been tampered with. Not many people came to the library and it was easy to keep the shelves orderly. Usually, only two or three books were misplaced or hanging out over the edge too far, at most it took thirty minutes to fix them. When I was finished, I walked back to the check out desk and took my seat. The only thing left for me to do was check out the books of the rare patron that passed through. While I waited, I could read or do homework. Mrs. Burchett didn't care as long as I was being productive and quiet. Sleeping, I had learned however, was not tolerable. She required that I at least be conscious. If I decided to stare at my thumbs for two hours, she didn't mind. Just no sleeping on her time.

I pulled out my Biology book and decided to catch up on reading. I was doing ok in the class, but I knew that if I exerted a little more effort into it I could do much better. I had given up on school and myself. I hadn't cared if I had gotten straight A's or F's. No one else cared, so why should I? However, I had realized that if I managed to snag an A on my biology final I could pull off an A in the class, leaving me with straight A's for year, except for English. That would be a D if I were lucky. Even with the D however, my GPA would be good enough to get into a decent school. Ivy League was out of the picture, but it wasn't like I could afford it anyway.

All the money I had made while I had worked at the library and restaurant I had saved. I had only spent money on my car and that was minimal. My mom had left me a small inheritance when she passed, and despite my father's efforts I received it when I turned sixteen. With that, I had bought my Volvo, my true pride and joy until Bella. I had a little left over and it joined my college funds. It was a small sum of money, but it would get me through a year at a public college and I figured I could work while in school and attempt to replace the money I used.

I knew that going to school would be hard, but I was willing to give it a shot. If not, I would be stuck in dead end job after dead end job. I didn't want to be trapped scraping by, a standing joke for my father to sneer at. Despite all that was against me, I was beginning to believe that I could succeed if I tried.

As I sat reading, I found myself astounded and intrigued by the different theories and discoveries. Honestly, I was almost bored to tears in Biology class. Mr. Cope would lecture on and on about atoms, electrons, and the like and after a while, I began to tune him out. But as I flipped through the pages, I instantly started to formulate and question what I was reading. I wanted to know more.

It was almost closing time when I finished reading. I amazed even myself by the amount that I had read. Remarkably, I completed three chapters. I closed my book and sat back in my chair rubbing my eyes. No one had stopped by during the course of my studying and I wasn't surprised. It was a normal evening at the library, lonesome.

I stood ready to go back over the shelves, not that they needed it, so that I could close up. Mrs. Burchett was sitting to the left of me, repairing old books with clear tape because the library seldom got the funds to replace them. No matter how dull the library came, she always found busy work to keep herself occupied. She kept on task as I went through to make my last rounds. It was only thirty minutes until eight and I needed to find something else to do.

Going to the supply closet, I took out the ancient Dirt Devil that Mrs. Burchett refused to retire and plugging it up, I began to sweep the vast expanse of maroon carpeting. We usually didn't do it every night. With the lack of traffic the library generally received, it wasn't necessary. But, I needed something to do. Despite being impossibly happy, I was tired. At any moment I was ready to fall over and if I didn't find a job to do, I could almost guarantee that I would.

The ancient tank of a machine thundered and broke the quiet of the library. Under its roar I oddly felt deaf. Of course I knew I wasn't because I was hearing the loud humming of the vacuum, but nothing else seemed to exist. Quickly, I pushed the vacuum over the carpet, picking up microscopic dirt. I was just about finished as I backed up allowing the vacuum to follow me, getting the last track of carpet.

I hadn't remembered a shelf being behind me, but oddly enough I bumped into something while finishing with the vacuum. I turned the vacuum off quickly and turned to survey the damage I had done. No doubt I had knocked over a book or two. But, as I had thought, there was no book shelf behind me. Instead, Bella sat on the floor looking up at me with wide shock. I could only imagine the confusion was mirrored back at her as I took in her sprawled form. Without further thought, I went to her aid, offering my hand. Blushing, she took it and allowed me to help her up.

"I came to check out a book to read. I decided I wanted to read something other than what's in my collection," she explained. It seemed as if she could hear my thoughts but then again, my expression was probably telling it all. I couldn't believe I had bumped into her.

"I'm glad I ran into you, figuratively speaking of course," I joked.

"Yeah, it's nice seeing you again too. What exactly are you doing here?" she asked, looking over my shoulder at the vacuum.

"Ah, I just randomly vacuum places," I chuckled. She smacked my arm playfully as she tried to put on a serious face.

"No really, why are you here?" she asked.

"I work here Monday through Wednesday," I answered.

"Really, I just thought you worked at the restaurant," she voiced.

"Yeah, I do. But I've worked here for almost two years now as well as bussing tables," I replied.

"It's weird I haven't ran into you sooner," she laughed.

"You come here a lot?" I asked, surprised that I hadn't noticed her.

"Yeah, usually just on Saturdays though," she replied.

"I've never worked a Saturday," I explained. Just then Mrs. Burchett rounded the corner, pointing to her watch letting me know that it was time to close.

"I'm sorry," Bella said catching Mrs. Burchett's display.

"No really, it's ok. You're the only person I've seen since I came in today besides Mrs. Burchett," I laughed.

"Well, if you could help me I'd just like to find a good book and I'll be out of here," she explained.

"What do you like to read?" I asked, more than willing to come to her aid.

"Ah, anything from Hemmingway to Shakespeare," she answered.

"What a specific answer," I chuckled.

"I don't know exactly what I want, I just want to read something different," she replied.

"So you're up for anything?" I asked as I started walking down the isle, glancing over the books for one I could suggest. So many of them caught my eye, but none of them really stood out.

"Yeah, just as long as it's not severely boring," she replied walking next to me.

"Have you read the "The Color Purple"?" I asked, the title standing out, but probably because it was literally the only brightly colored book in shelf of brown, grey, and black.

"Yeah," she replied.

"What about "The Reivers"?" I asked, my eye hitting Faulkner's section. Faulkner was one of my favorite authors. His works were very original to say the least, and if she hadn't read them she would probably find his story refreshing in content.

"I've never read it," she answered.

"I'd suggest it. It's very different though," I voiced as I pulled it off the shelf and handed it to her.

"I think I'll give it a shot. I haven't read anything new for a while," she replied taking the book.

"I hope you like it," I said as we started walking to the check out desk.

"I'm sure I will," she said as she came to a stop in front of the check out counter as I walked behind it.

"I see you're out late Isabella. Are you not coming by Saturday?" Mrs. Burchett asked as she watched me check out the book.

"No, I have plans Saturday morning and won't be able to," she replied as she handed me her library card. I scanned it and then the book, checking it out in her name. Instantly I began to wonder what her plans were and if she had made them alone or if someone else was joining her. I felt the urge to ask, but thought better of it. I didn't want her to think that I was some type of stalker. Besides, what authority did I have to ask her business?

"Oh, well that's a shame. I haven't seen you for the last two," Mrs. Burchett sighed. It was still remarkable to me that I hadn't run into Bella at the library. It seemed as if our paths had run parallel for a while and just now had merged. I was instantly bugged by the fact that I didn't really know what to consider her. Was that deliberate of her? Did she want to leave the relationship open so she could meet up with someone Saturday? As I handed back her book, I instantly felt guilty for my thoughts. I was becoming upset, no jealous, over something that was completely hypothetical. Besides, I had no reason not to trust her and no reason to question her motives.

"Thanks," she replied taking it, clutching it against her stomach.

"You'll have to let me know what you think of it," I said as she started to turn and walk away.

"I will. See you in class tomorrow, and make sure you're ready to present," she replied as she made the short walk to the door, turning to smile at me before she left.

"See ya," was all I could reply, I was stunned.

"I knew I was right," Mrs. Burchett laughed, bringing me out of my daze.

"Hmm?" I replied.

"I was right. You are in love," she smirked, giving me a "don't question it" look. Her eye brows were raised and her lips were twisted into a sly smile. How could I refute it when it was so obvious?

"Maybe," I replied as I walked away from the desk to put away the vacuum.

"You can't fool me Edward," she chuckled. I held back a laugh as I reached the Dirt Devil. Unplugging and wrapping up the cord, I stored it back into the closet.

"Ready?" she asked as I appeared at the desk. She had her coat and purse on her arm, waiting and ready to leave.

"Yeah, I just need to grab my book bag," I replied as I walked behind it and grabbed my bag, throwing it over my shoulder. We walked out the door together and I waited as Mrs. Burchett locked the door. I could have left her standing in the dark alone to do the task, but I always felt the need to stay by and make sure she made it to her car. She was sort of like a grandmother to me and I felt that I should respect her by waiting to make sure she was alright.

"I'll see you tomorrow Edward. Be good to my Bella, I've known her a long time," Mrs. Burchett sighed. She turned and walked away going to her old grey station wagon.

"Bye," I replied walking to my car. She was the second person that had instructed that I be good to Bella. Did everything think I was destined to mess up? I began to question myself as I drove quickly home. Could I be good for Bella?

As I pulled into my driveway, I was relieved to discover that my dad was still out. I really felt that my luck was starting to run thin. Really, how much could possibly go right in one day before reality interrupted? My life just didn't run that smoothly. My dad had given me a break, but I knew it was only a matter of time.

Walking into my room, I laid on my bed closing my eyes. I refused to worry about my dad for now. Everything had gone right today and I wouldn't let him cloud over it like he had everything else. Even if tomorrow was horrible and he destroyed all the happiness that I had left, at least I had today. That was all I could think about as I drifted off to sleep. Bella had come into my life and things were suddenly looking much brighter.

**(A/N: First and foremost, thanks for all the wonderful reviews on the last chapter! I really appreciated it. This chapter may be considered a filler/it is a filler, but I wanted to add a little unnecessary fluff. Not that it contained a lot, but I thought it would be nice having them run into one another again. With that said, what did you all think of this chapter? Just totally unnecessary, or was it tolerable? Please review and let me know. Oh, and please look over any mistakes in this chapter, I'm still self editing, I'm positive that I've looked over something. But with that said, if anyone is interested in Beta-ing, I could really use one!! Comment or PM and let me know if you're interested!)**


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